Our time to endure
by DragonRyuuji
Summary: When Harry Morgan dies and leaves behind his two teenage children, and Dexter is sent to a boarding school far away, how will the two of them endure? Debra is left to pick up the pieces of her broken self, and she waits for the coming day that she will be reunited with her brother. Six months. She could endure. A Debster, High School AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A Debster, High School AU! fic. Some circumstances has been changed, but the origins of the story and the characters are still the same, for the most part. Put to rating T for the time being, but we'll see what happens later. I'm not very well educated on school systems in America, so I'll be making some guesses along the line. Please leave constructive reviews, or just tell me what you think. It's highly appreciated.

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A silent nod. That was the only thing he was able to express at the given point in time. That's not how he'd planned to do it. It's not how he'd planned to say goodbye. He knew better, so much better, than to just nod. He could have at least smiled. But he had no reason to. Not even superficially, so why fake it? Damn it, he should have said something. But it wasn't easy, especially not for him. He could see that she wanted to say something too, but she didn't want to do anything rash. And it wasn't easy for her to speak. She still cried almost every day. He could hear her through the walls. And she was crying now.

But why? What could possibly be so absolutely heart-wrenching about him leaving that could make her cry? He didn't understand. He had never been able to understand other people's emotions, or even try to imagine what they could possibly be feeling at any given time. It was lost on him.

But she was crying as he closed the door on the backseat of the car and settled into the seat, his hands dead in his lap. He had never wished for this. He never wished for much at all, but this was the last thing he had wanted. Separated from the life he knew, separated from the people he cared about. Or well, maybe he didn't care about them. But he pretended to.

Yet, he was still only able to nod. Not even smile. And he regretted it, he really did, but it was all he could do. He turned his head to the window, looked her in the eyes as she cried, that sterile woman from the child protective services patting her shoulders comfortingly. And he nodded. He could see her lips curl involuntarily, and it looked like she was about to cry even more, and he really couldn't wrap his head around it. Why cry for him?

But that is what his life had come to. Everywhere around him, tears and pain and… sorrow. Yet he felt none of it. Just a hollow unknowingness that followed the incidents of the past weeks. He didn't understand. He was in his second year of high school, and now he had to spend the rest in another school. Away from her. 'It's easier to change high school than it is to change middle school', they'd told him. Bullshit. It was utter bullshit, but there was nothing he could do about it. How was she supposed to handle that pressure on her own? Sure, she had those people, but she didn't know them. And he knew that she wouldn't get along with them.

He was 15, and she was a year younger, and he knew that next year she would get into high school too. And she would most likely be transferred to his school. Away from that town, all that crap. It was because of _that town_. And considering the fact that he would enter the new school in the middle of the year, it wouldn't be too long before she came along. But it was still _too long_.

But apparently, that's how it was when you were left with no parents. And that's how it was for the two of them when her father slash his foster father passed away because of some messed up heart disease. And then the child protective services had stepped in and said that he would be moving out of town. It was for his own sake, they said, to study out of the town that had been the place all that pain had happened. But they didn't consider her, because she was still a middle school student. But she needed him, and he knew it. He was the only family she had left. But he'd be at the very other end of Florida, while she was stuck in Miami, with no other way to contact him. He just hoped they had payphones at the school he was going to.

Man, it was 1985, shouldn't they have more cellphones by then? They had been starting to get popular lately, but he hadn't bothered getting one. But he was sure they had phones there. It was a boarding school after all.

His biggest problem was how he was supposed to behave when he didn't have Harry, his foster father. He wasn't… wired properly, and Harry was the only one who could tell him how to behave. How to pretend to be normal. He'd learned the basics of it, but now that Harry was gone, he didn't know how to perfect himself. He was on his own.

But this was Dexter Morgan's new life, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd simply have to persevere, and make sure he didn't do anything that could get him in trouble. He was indefinitely happy that he wouldn't be having a roommate in school, at least not to begin with. Not unless someone new joined the school. So for the time being, he'd have time to be alone, with himself. To relax, and to study. And hopefully to understand himself a bit better, seeing as he had no one to help him with that longer. He had some… tendencies that he had to control. If only Harry had been able to finish his training. It would have been so much easier.

Dexter didn't know why he was the way he was. Harry said that Dexter had witnessed something terrible when he was a child, and that it had gotten into his system too early. But Dexter couldn't remember what, and Harry wouldn't tell him. He was afraid it might traumatize him.

Dexter didn't know how long they'd been driving for. He'd been dozing off now and then, and the sun had started to set, darkness covering the open horizons they left behind them. He still didn't know why they didn't just put him on a plane. All these hours of driving, it was unnecessary. Both for him, and for the people who drove him. But that was how they wanted to do it, and he eventually figured that they just wanted to make sure he arrived safely.

The next time he woke up again, it was completely dark outside. Dexter sighed and pulled his backpack closer to himself, pulling out some papers and a tiny flashlight he had just in case. He used it to read the pamphlets that he had gotten in his mailbox a week earlier, right after he had applied for the school – or right after _they _had applied for him.

He just wanted to make sure he had all the information he needed. That was important to him, being in control of his surroundings, making sure nothing ever took him by surprise or overpowered him in an unnecessary way. He let his eyes flicker over the map he'd been given, and he memorized it as precisely as he could. He also decided to re-read some of the introduction.

'Welcome to Barking Hills Boarding School! We strive towards creating and bettering a perfect place for students to undergo their education, but also a place where they can feel at home! Here at Barking Hills you will find everything you need to lead an everyday life, whilst living in our dormitories. We wish you a great stay, and may you become a good and intelligent student!'

_Totally overdone_, Dexter thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting the papers back into the backpack, turning the little flashlight off. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. The two people in front had been pretty silent for most of the drive, but when they did speak, they spoke with hushed voices. Not that it made it any difficult for Dexter to hear it.

"So, how do you think his sister's going to manage?" One of the men said, throwing a quick glance at Dexter who kept his eyes closed to pretend he didn't notice any of it.

"What, you mean without him? It shouldn't be a problem. They're foster siblings, they probably don't even give a shit about each other." The other man replied with a nonchalant tone to his voice, and Dexter could feel his jaw clenching tightly. This man wasn't fit for working in child protective services, and he wasn't fit to say shit about Dexter's and Debra's relationship with each other. Like the fact that they weren't related by blood made it any different? Debra had been Dexter's sister for as long as he could remember. She was nothing less than a sister to him.

He tried to put aside their utterly ignorant ramblings for a while and attempted to sleep. It wasn't easy, but he wanted to make this trip go faster. It already felt as if he'd been in that car forever.

And then he woke up. It wasn't as dark outside anymore, and he woke up because the car had come to a stop and someone called his name.

"Dexter, we're here," the man said with a soft voice. It was the one who'd been rude earlier, and Dexter just glared at him before grabbing his bag and getting out of the car. The air was humid, and their surroundings were absolutely silent. The school was away from regular population, and he'd read that it was a 15 minute bus ride to get to the little town of Barking Hills.

The other man, the one who Dexter had decided was nicer than the first, went and opened the trunk of the car. He pulled out a bag and another backpack and put them down in front of Dexter. "Want us to help you carry this to your room?" He asked with a smile, and Dexter shook his head after looking at the luggage.

"No, I'll be fine," he said in a monotonous voice, one that was too deep for someone his age. The man hesitated a bit before nodding. He looked surprised, even though he'd already heard Dexter speak. His voice often took him aback a little.

"Alright. There's a man over there who we talked with on the phone. He'll show you to your room, but be sure to be a bit quiet… it's 3:30 am." He said. Dexter nodded and bent down to pick up his stuff. He slung both backpacks over one shoulder and hoisted the bag over the other. It was a bit heavy, but Dexter was strong, so it didn't matter to him. He turned around and started heading towards the man, but he was stopped by the voice of the man behind him. "Hey, Dexter," he said, and Dexter turned his head to look at him. "Good luck, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks," Dexter replied, smiling gingerly before turning around again. His smiles were often faked, but he knew when he was supposed to smile. He was good at reading the atmosphere, most of the time.

Dexter approached the man standing by the entrances to the dormitories, which were actually a separate building from the actual school, a building which Dexter could see a under a little hill. Probably a three minute walk there. The school wasn't very big, so there obviously weren't a lot of students there.

"Hello! You must be Dexter," the man smiled, shaking Dexter's hand. "My name is John Daruvie, I'm a janitor at this school. This is the building your room is in. There are two similar dorm buildings, originally built for each to house one gender, but due to the differences between female and male students, it's all a bit jumbled up. But that doesn't matter, does it? You're not afraid of girls, eh?" He joked, laughing to himself. Dexter forced a chuckle and shook his head a little.

"No, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine." He said, returning the smile to the janitor.

"Alright, that's good then," he said, pointing at the door. "I'll show you to your room. You'll have plenty of time to settle in, considering it's Saturday morning and all."

He led Dexter inside. The building was fairly simple, with narrow hallways and red carpeted floors. Dexter looked into an open room and saw a somewhat large hall with a couch and a table and board games and a radio and so on. Probably the "living room" of the dorm hall. His room was apparently furthest inside the hallways… plus one story up. That's when he realized there were actually two stories.

He couldn't help himself from cursing inwardly at the thought of it being more difficult for him to get out of his room at night to get to some nighttime activities. Even so, he didn't know if that was even going to happen, now with Harry gone and unable to guide him. But he had to channel his needs somehow, or else he would be screwed. He knew that he would eventually become desperate, but luckily that hadn't happened yet. Maybe he was fine for a little while longer.

He was shown into the room that read '10 B', and he figured that all the rooms here were B's, and the other building was A. The janitor wished him a good night, or good morning, or whatever, and left him to himself. Dexter closed the door and locked it before flipping the switch next to the door to light up the room.

It had pretty much everything he needed. There was a bunk bed in one corner, and a couch in the other. He had a desk next to the beds, and a nightstand, a little bathroom off to the side with a shower and a toilet, and he even had a fridge and a stove. Yeah, this was more than enough. He carried his stuff to the closet that stood adjacent of the bed, against the wall, and started unpacking his things from the bag and backpacks into the closet. He put the things he needed for the bathroom in the bathroom, and he put the books he'd brought into tiny shelves that was attached under the desk. When he got to the bottom of the bag, having cleaned out almost everything, he swallowed heavily. He needed some place for _that_. He bent down in front of the closet and saw a little board covering the bottom, to make sure not too much dust accumulated under the closet. He hit on it with his fist until it came off, and there was a little space under there that could fit what he needed to fit there.

He picked the black pouch out of the bag and looked it over, opening it to reveal a set of brandished, shining knives and other cutting tools of several shapes and sized. He let his fingers slide over their handles before wrapping the pouch up again, putting it under the closet. He reattached the little slab of wood.

Those knives were a gift from Harry, for when he would actually need them. They both knew that he would, eventually. He cleared the last couple of things out of his bag and put them on his nightstand, before throwing the empty bag into the closet. He sat down on the bottom bunk and picked up the picture he'd placed on the nightstand.

He looked at it with what could almost look like a peaceful expression on his face. There, on the picture, was his sister Debra. She was smiling softly to the camera, the sun shining on her brown hair. Dexter had always been sure that his sister had a big heart, she just refused to show it. She swore a lot, even though she was only fourteen, and tended to hide away when there was too much emotion at play.

He was convinced that Debra was the only person in the world that loved him. And now they were separated, and he knew that it was going to be difficult, even though he normally didn't depend too much on other people. But Debra kept him calm. She kept him at bay.

…

Debra curled up against the wall on her new bed, burying her face between her knees, the soft fabric of her pajamas rubbing against her temples. She didn't want to live in a fucking orphanage. She wanted to be with Dexter. Since she didn't have any parents now, she wanted to be with Dexter, and being away from him was going to kill her. She knew it too well.

She wasn't going to be assigned a foster family since she would be moving to Barking Hills six months later, once she started High School. She really couldn't wait for that to happen. She had wanted to tell her brother that she'd already been ensured a spot at the school, but when he left, she was unable to say anything. It was too painful, and she was left speechless.

She could feel a lump form in her throat, and she cursed to herself. She hated that this happened every night, that she simply couldn't stop crying. But she was an orphan now, and it killed her from the inside. And she was alone. Even though the orphanage had many other people her age, she was still alone. They didn't make a difference, because she was still away from the one person who made her feel safe. _Every girl needs her brother_, she thought. And that's truly how she felt. She didn't even know when she'd become so dependent on Dexter, and she had kind of hated him because her father gave him all his attention, but still… he was there for her. He never judged her, he just looked after her when it was needed.

But now she was alone, and she felt truly lost. "Dex," she whispered. "Please don't forget about me."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I realize I screwed up a bit on one point in the first chapter; to make it logic, Dexter has to be in first grade of High School. So disregard the whole second grade thing. Also, he is still one year older than Debra. I do realize that their age difference and the time Harry died is not correct with the canon plot, but this is an AU. It was never supposed to be correct with the plot. If you do, on the other hand, want fics that aren't AU's with this pairing, I've written two. Please enjoy this next chapter.

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Dexter stared blankly at the bottom of the top bunk of the bed from where he lay with his head resting on a pillow, his hands neatly folded on his chest. He'd made an attempt at sleeping, but after resting so much in the car on the way to where he was now, it wasn't all that simple. He just wasn't tired, and he frankly felt a bit restless. He checked the watch on his wrist and found that it was 5 am. He definitely wasn't going to be able to get any sleep soon, so he got up and sat by the desk.

He looked forwards, and he noticed that a tiny breeze made the curtains behind the desk move away. Was there a window there? He pulled the curtain aside after leaning over the desk to reach it, and sure enough, something was open. But it wasn't a window. It was so much better. He went to the side of his desk and eventually managed to push it out of the way by using what could almost be considered excessive force, and then he pulled the curtains properly aside, revealing the door that led out to the tiny balcony.

Why he had a balcony, he had no idea. He felt that he wasn't supposed to use it considering it was hidden behind the desk, but it couldn't be that much of a problem. There was nothing out there, but after seeing the metal bars on the railings, he realized that this could be a perfect way to get down from the balcony. If he just climbed over the railings and hung from the lowest bar, it wasn't all that far down. Furthermore, he could get back up by climbing the water drain – which led water from the ceiling and down in the ground – that was attached to the wall right next to the balcony.

He smiled a bit to himself before closing the door behind him, shoving the desk back in its former place in front of the door. He sat back down and looked through a piece of paper he'd found in the drawer in the desk. It was an information slip about the different subjects of free choice they had in the school. He'd have to choose one theoretical subject of his own choice, and also one physical activity subject. He'd already decided on the theoretical one. It was perfect for him, considering he might have to read up a bit on his own condition, and with this he'd definitely get the books for it.

Human psychology 101. It was a pretty simple choice, especially now that he didn't have anyone else to explain these things to him. How humans worked, and so on.

For the physical subject, he wasn't really sure. He was no big fan of sports, but he did train a lot on his own free-time to keep in shape. He had to, after all, in order to be agile and strong. He eventually decided on simply choosing track. That way he'd be able to train his running skills, and his agility, and he could deal with the strength on his own. That's what he'd planned after all.

If he could, he would have used his time on doing something productive like homework, but the problem was that he didn't have any. He was pretty much stuck, but he figured he could read something. He picked out one of the books he'd started on, and indulged himself in the fiction.

…

Debra was woken up by the caretakers at seven in the morning. On a Saturday? In what possible way could that be necessary?

"Jesus fuck," she mumbled, sitting up on the bed with messy hair and drowsy eyes. The woman standing there in the door looked at her with a slightly confused expression, trying to ignore the fact that she'd just said something very unexpected. She cleared her throat and looked at the two other girls who slept in the same room.

"Time for breakfast," she said, and the girls complied with a yawn. Debra got out of bed and walked downstairs in her pajama shorts – which she'd eventually changed into after realizing pajama pants was way too warm – and a tank top. As she joined the breakfast table with many children sitting around it, she got a couple of weird glances. The others were either wearing full pajamas or actual clothes, and they'd at least brushed their hair… Debra looked more like she'd just ascended from the depths of damnation and undressed on the way up because of the heat.

She had a tendency of not caring about what other people said about her, so she paid them no heed and sat down to eat. She didn't notice the eyes of the boy who sat at the other end of the table, looking at her with wonder in his eyes. She ate her breakfast in complete silence, whilst some of the other kids chatted idly with each other. Debra didn't feel at home there, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to get used to a life without her brother.

After breakfast, she decided to head back up to the room she slept in, but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, and saw a boy standing there, ready to say something. He had short brown hair, and ocean blue eyes.

"Hi," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers. "My name's Joey, Joey Quinn. Just wanted to introduce myself," he smiled, and a dialect accentuated his voice a little. Debra didn't register which dialect it was though, but he probably wasn't born in Miami.

Debra hesitated for a moment before she shook his hand. "My name's Debra," she mumbled, as if she really wasn't all that eager to do conversation. She was tired, after all.

"Nice to meet you, Debra," Quinn smiled, shaking her hand firmly before pulling it back to his side. "So, what brings you here?" He asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

Debra narrowed her eyes, and even though she didn't want to come off too rude, she hadn't been in the best mood lately. She'd finally accepted the fact that she couldn't help being rude in these kinds of situations. "My fucking dad died, what about you?" She spat, her eyes glaring daggers at him. She could see the visible flinch on Quinn's face as he got her reply.

"Wow, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know. My condolences," he uttered, bowing his head a little in apology. "That's worse than my reason, at least… I'm just here while my dad sorts out his, uh… drinking problems."

"I see. Doesn't sound too fun," Debra mumbled, looking at her bare feet. She could hear Quinn clear his throat.

"So, uhm… you don't have any other family, then?" He asked, his shoulders retracting a little in question.

Debra bit her lip and looked up at him before sighing softly. "I do," she said, shrugging a little. "But, uh… he was kinda taken away from me." She said bitterly, and the way she said it made her realize just how special it probably sounded. And just how much she hated that it had even happened. Some part of her even wanted to hate Dexter for leaving her behind like that.

"Taken away?" Quinn asked, looking a bit confused. It sounded almost like someone in her family had been incarcerated or something.

"Yeah, he, uh… he was moved to another town to go to boarding school, after what happened with dad."

"So he's your brother, then?" He asked, and she confirmed it with a nod. He put a finger to his lips, humming to himself. "I see… sounds kinda shitty, doesn't it? Just… tell me if there's anything I can do, alright?"

"Yeah… uh, thanks." Debra added, swallowing the lump in her throat. At least she'd managed without being too rude. Quinn smiled and nodded a bit awkwardly before turning on his heel to get to what was probably the room he slept in. Debra smiled a little to herself. Quinn seemed like a nice guy.

She went back to the room and got some clean clothes from her bag, before heading off to see if the bathroom was occupied, which to her surprise, it wasn't. She got in, locked the door, and got out of her pajamas in a hurry. She got in the shower and twisted the knob until the water was pouring down on her, drenching every pore of her body, every inch of her skin, and she reveled in the feeling of the lukewarm substance against her naked body.

If there was one thing that could lift Debra's spirits, it was a proper shower.

After showering, Debra made her way back to the room and took a look at the calendar on the wall. February 3rd. She'd be starting high school in August, but it should be possible for her to go there during summer vacation. _Less than six months_, she thought. _I can do this._

The weekend passed quite quickly for both Dexter and Debra, and then it was time for them both to get back to school. For Debra it would be nothing new, considering she'd been in the same class for several years. But for Dexter, it was completely new. All of it. He didn't know anyone there, not even the teachers.

But Dexter got to his class on time that Monday, which according to his schedule was a simple homeroom class. Basically, that's when they would hand out information about the upcoming week and possible changes in the week's schedules. When Dexter entered the classroom, there were several empty spots for him to sit in. He sat down by a random desk and combed his fingers through his short, brown hair before settling down, waiting for the class to start. A few minutes passed, and more students started filing into the classroom, chatting quietly between each other.

Dexter was thankful that no one seemed to try and sit next to him, but just as he had thought about it, someone did. The guy who had sat down next to him was breathing quite heavily, sounding as if he had been running to get to class on time.

"Hey," he heard, and he turned to the boy. His hair was almost completely shaved off, and he wore oval shaped glasses. Definitely not American. "You new here? The name's Vince." He smiled.

"Dexter," Dexter replied nonchalantly, nodding a little. Just as Vince was about to say something, they heard a male voice from the front of the classroom.

"Masuka, for once, could you please shut up?" The teacher asked with a groan. So, he was Japanese, then. His name would imply such, at least.

"Yes, sir," Masuka said awkwardly and pursed his lips to keep his mouth shut. After going through the information for that week, the teacher ended the class with an announcement.

"Also, there's a new student here. Introduce yourself, kiddo." The teacher said simply, and Dexter could feel his entire nerve system collapsing on him from inside, trying to make his eyes pop out of his sockets in sheer frustration. He'd have to act cheerful. He didn't feel like acting cheerful.

"My name is Dexter Morgan," he said without bothering to stand up, lightening his voice and smiling just a tiny bit. "Nice to meet you all."

The day went on with nothing special happening, and Dexter didn't have any of his personal choice classes that day.

When lunch times rolled around, Dexter ended up sitting together with Masuka, who was constantly rambling about the some of the most vulgar things Dexter could ever remember hearing. It made him tense, and he could already feel it inside of him. That urge, creeping around in the shadows of his inner self, attempting to drown him in need and lust for that substance. That red, thick, beautiful-

He shook his head. He couldn't think those things. He'd only just gotten to the new school, and this was bad news. He needed Harry. No… that's not who he needed.

"Hey, Vince," a voice suddenly called from behind them, and a guy went around the table and sat down adjacent of them. "Don't scare the new guy, okay?" He asked with a chuckle and a raised eyebrow. He had this accent that sounded a bit latino, if Dexter had heard correctly.

"My name's Angel Batista, I'm a 3rd year." He said and extended his arm. Dexter shook his hand. Angel was kind of a big guy, but he sounded calm and pleasant to talk to.

"Dexter Morgan," Dexter said, and he felt as if he didn't have to strain himself so much to act kind with a person that was kind in return. Hopefully, these 6 months wouldn't be too horrible to endure, but he knew it would be more than just a little difficult.

The next day came around the corner, and Dexter had track as the last class that day. They were doing some medium-paced laps around the track, and Dexter noticed that his shape was pretty much as good as always. Towards the end of class they were doing one on one sprints on the 100 meter lane. Dexter was running against a girl he didn't know the name of, and as the coach said go, they both shot off at their highest possible speed.

They were pretty much equally fast, but just as they were about to cross the finish line, the girl tripped. Dexter could feel the air change as she went tumbling towards the ground, her knees scraping against the red, rubber-like material on the running course. Dexter stopped as abruptly as he could, kneeling down next to the girl who was clutching at her knee.

"You okay?" He asked in a hurry, and the coach was starting to make her way over. The girl looked up at Dexter and laughed a little.

"I'm fine," she chuckled, waving him off which required her to remove her hand from her knee, which then revealed it. The blood. "I can take this much. You run fast, you know that?" She smiled, heaving a deep breath to show how exhausted she'd become from running against him. But her words were drowned out from Dexter's head as his mind oozed with darkness. That hunger was there again. It was so much more intense than it was back home in Miami. But why?

Dexter took a step back and stuttered incoherently. "I, uh… I have something I need to… take care of." He said, and took off running. He had to get away. He hurried into the wardrobes and got changed out of his running clothes, grabbing his backpack, and then he ran haul ass back to his room. He locked the door behind him and sat down on his bed. His breathing was heavy and uneven, and he had no idea how he was supposed to compose himself. He grabbed the picture of his nightstand and stared at it, hoping it would bring him some peace. His sister. It was because of her that he was starting to lose it so easily. Because she wasn't there with him. He wanted to call her, but he didn't want to creep her out, and he didn't even know the number to where she lived now.

His fingers trailed over the picture before he set it back down and closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. If only she was there. His sister, who somehow kept him in check. He didn't even know why, but there was something about her presence, and the knowledge of her presence, that soothed him. He needed that.

He slowly opened his eyes once he'd gotten his breath back, and that's when he noticed it. Something was on the floor in front of the door. It was a white envelope, and it looked quite large. Dexter frowned deeply and went over to it, picking it off the ground. He opened it where he stood. It had his name on it, and somehow it was… eerie.

_Hello, Dexter. If you're reading this, then surely you have returned from your classes. I left this under your door while you were in school. I know who you are, but you do not know me. I followed you to Barking Hills from Miami, because I need to make sure you're kept under control, now that your father cannot. Over the time that is ahead of you, I will guide you through this. I live in the town, 15 minutes from here, but you can not know who I am. At least not yet. But you will learn to channel your urges with time, and with my guidance. At first, you must learn why I helped make sure you were moved to exactly this town, instead of somewhere else. Just in the outskirts of Barking Hills, there is a prison for brutal offenders, charged with violence and murder._

_This is a place where you can properly follow the code of your father, Harry. But you must rush. When it is time, I will give you the files that will tell you when certain prisoners are due to be released from that prison. But for now, you must control yourself. I believe in you, Dexter._

What. The. Hell.

Dexter stood there, staring at the letter with wide eyes. He wanted to be scared, but he couldn't. No, he was… exhilarated. Excited. Who was this person? How did they know about his urges, and about Harry's code? They seemed to know what they were talking about, so maybe, just maybe… he could channel his urges with their help. This was like a gift from some abstract murderous entity that wished for him to keep going. And to start killing.

At that point, it didn't all seem too bad anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I just want to mention that this fic isn't focused on the re-union of Debra and Dexter. That kind of plot might seem a little less fulfilling, and maybe a bit boring. So don't worry, most of the plot will be when they're actually within a close proximity of each other on a daily basis.

* * *

When someone sends you a letter revealing they know of all your darkest secrets, and you have no idea who they are, there's a whole lot of confusion to deal with. Usually it would also imply that a lot of stress would follow right after, but when they in no way threatened to use it against you, it was a bit different.

Dexter knew, of course, that he might have to get rid of this person some day. They obviously knew about his little condition, and what he had ultimately planned to use it for, and he couldn't let anyone go around knowing that much. It could eventually blow up in his face, and that's something he couldn't have. But he'd let them help out for as long as it took for him to know what he had to know about hiding his tracks, and about weeding out essential… victims.

He tried to shake those thoughts off when he went to class that Wednesday, seeing as it was his first Psychology class. Their teacher was a young woman named Joanna Leerstock. She seemed quite pleasant after the first impression Dexter got of her, and he had to admit that the new subject she introduced was as ironic as it could possibly be. Or, well… almost.

"Today, we're starting on a new subject. Lucky for you, Mr. Morgan, now you don't have to jump the gun in the middle of a chapter. That way, it would probably be a bit difficult to understand anything. The subject we'll be working on in the upcoming week is," she started writing on the blackboard with a piece of chalk as she spoke. "PTSD. Can anyone tell me what that is?" She asked as she turned towards the students. Her class was pretty bright, but at the same time pretty lazy. Coincidentally, Dexter was the first one to reach his hand into the air.

"Post traumatic stress disorder," he said in a nonchalant voice, and the teacher nodded with a little smile.

"Very good, Dexter. You're making a good impression already now," she smiled as she wrote the entire name for PTSD on the blackboard. "Does anyone know what causes PTSD with a person?"

"Can I try?" Some girl asked from the room, and after getting permission to speak, she cleared her throat. "I'd say… any kind of traumatic experience that can leave a mental scar on a person. They might become… unhinged."

_The irony, _Dexter thought. _Harry said I was affected by something that happened in my past. I wasn't born the way I am, something… made me into this hollow shell of a human being. Something traumatic. But I know that saying I'm a subject to PTSD would be a brutal understatement. No, it's something completely different than that. I am not traumatized. This life is all I know. How I am inside… that is all I can ever remember feeling._

"Exactly," Joanna said, jotting down some points on the blackboard. "Witnessing or directly experiencing something traumatic can to some extent remove certain aspects of your common sense, or make you… paranoid, scared, and so on. Another big point is guilt. You could start blaming yourself for what happened. That is a very normal occurrence when it comes to PTSD."

…

The rest of the day was just normal classes, in which Dexter did his best to pay attention and understand as much of what was going on. He wanted good grades. He wasn't going to slack off and miss his chance at getting the job he was hoping to get when he grew up. He couldn't do that. Once school was out, Dexter went to the school's cafeteria and got something to eat that he could save for dinner time. He brought it back to his room, effectively avoiding any unnecessary conversation with Vincent Masuka or anyone else who might have felt the need to talk to him. Not that there were a lot of people who actually wanted to talk to him, he thought.

The first thing he did when getting back to his room was do the homework he'd gotten. All of it. It took him a few hours, but he didn't have anything else to do, and he wanted to get it done as soon as possible. It made everything so much easier when he was done ahead of time. It was like that with pretty much everything.

When night rolled around, Dexter started getting ready. He knew that it might be a good idea to save this for the weekend, but he wanted to get to it. The weekdays were the days that the "guards" were most careful not to let anyone out at night, so that would make for more training for Dexter. Furthermore, he had a free hour at the beginning of the next day, so he could sleep for an hour more.

When it was 11:30, Dexter went into his closet and got a tight fitting sweater that had a brown/green color, one that really accentuated his rather big muscles. He pulled on a couple of cargo pants, and put a pair of short, black leather gloves on his hands. He pushed his desk aside and opened the door to the little balcony. He stepped outside and peaked over the edge, making sure no one could see him. He saw one person walking about the grounds a little away from him, and it was definitely far enough for Dexter to stay hidden. The man even had his back turned on him, so it was perfectly okay. Dexter silently climbed the railings and hoisted himself down to the lowest bar there, dropping himself to the ground. He could feel it a little bit in his feet when he landed, but it wasn't enough to hurt him.

He stood up slowly, his head turning away from the dorm building, and the night breeze blew coolly through his hair. He took a deep, careful breath, preparing himself for what came next. He turned his head from side to side, making sure no one could see him. The coast was clear, and he walked at a brisk pace towards a brush of trees not far away from where he stood. He made it there without anyone seeing him, and from there, getting away from the school grounds was easy.

He walked through the tiny forest that riddled the outskirts of the school grounds until he came to a little stream. He could quite easily jump across it, and after doing so, he crouched down on the other end to inspect the area a little. There was still some forest to cover, so he jogged through it until he reached a little road. Just as he did so, he saw the headlights of a car coming in his direction. He backtracked a little bit, hiding behind a tree. That's when he noticed it. It was a bus.

So there were buses that late at night. That was actually perfect, if he should ever need to get into town in the middle of the night. Dexter pulled his sleeve up a little and checked his watch. 11:52. He hadn't used a lot of time getting there, but he figured that he'd found out enough for one night. He now knew how to get out of the school grounds in the middle of the night, and to his surprise, it was embarrassingly easy. Now, on the other hand, it was time to figure out how he was supposed to re-enter the premises and return to his room.

He took the same route to get back to where he came from, jumping the stream and jogging through the forest. When he came closer, however, he started slowing down a little. He didn't want to risk breaking off any twigs or anything like that. He wasn't really sure when he those guys would stop patrolling the grounds, but they obviously needed sleep too before another day of teaching, so he figured they'd be heading back soon. When he came to the end of the tree-lines, he crouched down at the side of a tree, his hand resting on the trunk of it.

He looked from side to side, and then he noticed it. There was a guy walking in Dexter's direction, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Dexter cursed under his breath and retreated a few steps as silently as he could, hiding behind a thick tree-trunk. He had his back against it and his eyes fixed on a tree far into the forest. He could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer, and it really did sound like the man was walking towards Dexter. Had he seen him? Dexter could feel his blood pump inside of him, his heart nearly throbbing in his chest. The footsteps came to a halt, and Dexter heard the sound of liquid hitting the ground.

He was only taking a leak. He hadn't spotted Dexter. As the man left, Dexter heaved a sigh, looking out from behind the trunk. When the man was far enough away not to hear Dexter, he crouch-walked over the grass towards the dormitories. Once he was there, he grabbed onto the water-drain that was attached to the wall and pulled himself up, placing his feet on the wall. With a little effort, he managed to climb up to the same level as his balcony, and then jump onto it. He hurriedly got inside and locked the door behind him, pushing the desk back in place. That had been a rather successful training mission.

…

She was twitching. Her eyelids shook, and her face was occasionally thrown at a sideways angle, as if someone was pushing her face. Her fists clenched and unclenched, and her legs trembled. Her breath was growing more and more erratic, as if she was about to have a really bad case of an asthma attack. And then suddenly, she fell. Or it felt like she did. Her arms flew into the air as if she was trying to catch onto something, and then Debra awoke with a start, looking at her stretched out arms in shock.

She moved her hands down to clench at her chest, trying frantically to compose her breathing and her pounding heart. She couldn't exactly say that her nightmares were getting any better with time. She wanted to sneak into _his _room and lay down besides _his _bed. She wanted to listen to the rhythm of his soft breathing, knowing it would calm her down and make her forget about her bad dreams. It always did. But he wasn't there anymore, and that hurt her more than she would ever admit to anyone that it did.

He was supposed to be there for her now that their dad was dead. He was supposed to be there and take care of her and make sure that she was doing okay – which in fact she was _not _– and he was supposed to help her relax when she was scared. She wanted to hear his voice. Oh, how she wanted to hear his voice, that voice that was never unnerved and never on edge. That voice, _his voice, _that would immediately calm her senses and make her feel so, so much better. But he wasn't there. And there was nothing she could do about it.

…

When weekend came around, Dexter had decided he wanted to call Debra. He had found the card he was given before he left, that had the number for the office that those people from the child protective services worked in. He walked out of his room that Saturday and headed for the school building, hoping to find out where the phones were located. He knew that the cafeteria area of the school was open every day. Upon entering, he saw Angel and Vince sitting at one of the tables.

"Hey, guys," he said as he approached them, and they smiled at him from their breakfasts.

"Morning, Dexter," Angel said, motioning for him to sit next to him. "You getting breakfast?"

"Not just yet," Dexter said, gritting his teeth a little as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask. "I need to make a phone call… do you know where the phones are?"

"Vince and I can show you if you'd like. Right, Vince?"

"Of course," Vince grinned widely up at Dexter. "I'm done eating anyways, so it's fine with me."

Dexter nodded gratefully, and they all took off to find the phones. To Dexter's confusion, they were walking back towards the dormitories. "Is it back there?" Dexter asked, furrowing his brows a little.

"Aye," Angel nodded. "It's in one of the hallways in each of the dormitories.

Dexter was a bit surprised that he hadn't noticed them in the week he was there, but then again, it wasn't in the same direction as his room. He thanked Angel and Vince before they took off towards the living room to hang out. He got a quarter and popped it into the phone, dialing the number that was on the card. After a little while, someone picked up.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end asked. _Oh great, it's that guy, _Dexter thought. _I recognize his voice._

"Hi," Dexter said with a friendly voice, trying his best to get on his good side. "I was thinking of making a call to my sister, and I was wondering if you could direct me to the orphanage she's staying at? I didn't get their number."

"Uh…" The guy on the other line started. "Sorry, but your sister has clearly informed us that she doesn't want to speak to you. Wish I could help you, man." He said, and then he hung up. Dexter stood there, struck with a sudden sense of awe. He didn't understand. Why wouldn't she want to talk to him? Had he done something wrong? Was it true that she didn't actually care about him? No, he refused to believe it. Something was wrong. Or maybe she just needed some time to herself… that was an option too.

The man on the other end sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. What a drag. They hadn't even heard anything from Debra the past week apart from an "I'm doing fine, don't fucking worry about it," when they called her to check up on her. But he simply didn't want to bother with forwarding that guy to the orphanage. He had better things to take care of… like read a comic magazine, slowly zipping from his cup of coffee. If lying would grant him less work, then he would gladly do it.


	4. Chapter 4

Panic. That was the first emotion that registered inside of Dexter once he'd realized what had happened. Most of the night had been one big blur of stress, and somewhere along the line, everything had gone out of control. He sat against the cold brick wall in that dark alley, his bloody hands with beaten knuckles clutching at his hair. His lip was cut and his cheek was bruised, and his lips quivered uncontrollably as he tried to collect his thoughts.

He'd lost control. He was prepared that it would happen someday, but as soon as just 1 month after starting at the new school? That's not even close to how long he thought he'd hold out. But he'd lost control and he'd gotten in a fight, and he was thankful that the other part was strong enough to fend Dexter off, because that guy would be dead otherwise. Dexter could feel it, pumping inside of him, that extreme urge to _kill. _It was so sudden. That guy had ticked him off and tried to start a fight with him, and that's exactly how it ended up.

Dexter didn't know why it happened like that. Why he had all those emotions bottled up inside of him that needed to get out. He blamed almost all of it on the fact that he hadn't spoken to her since he left Miami. She was the only one who could calm him down, and now, after 1 month, the fact that she didn't even want to speak to him was starting to wear on his current state of mentality. He'd kept getting letters from that person, each one including one new rule from Harry's code that he needed to remember for when he was going to kill.

But that didn't help him with his biggest problems. His sister. He needed to speak to her before things got out of hand once again, but he couldn't, because he had no real way of contacting her now that the people at the orphanage knew that she didn't want to speak to her brother.

It shouldn't have ended up like this. It was never supposed to end up like this. But it did, and it got out of hand, and Dexter had beaten that guy until his lips bled, and he had done the same to Dexter. But apart from not being able to speak to Debra, and apart from the fact that the urges were getting stronger, it was all because of him. That guy. That quarterback on the school's football team.

_James Doakes._

…

It had all started a few days before. It was a Thursday, and Dexter had just gotten out of a surprise quiz in math. It had been fairly easy on his part, and he finished early which then resulted in him getting out of class a bit sooner. The same went for Vince, who had then asked Dexter to come eat lunch by the bleachers. Dexter didn't really have any reason to turn him down, so he had decided to follow. As soon as they'd bought their lunch from the cafeteria, they went to sit by the bleachers, where the football team was practicing.

"These guys look experienced," Dexter said after taking a bite out of his sandwich. He didn't know much about football, but he could tell if someone was doing well.

"Yeah, these are the best players in our school. I mean, not that there are generally a lot of people in our school, but there's more than enough to create at least a decent football team." Vince informed. "And despite the stereotypes about football players, they don't actually get all the girls. Which is good for us, right? Right?" He said, grinning from ear to ear before laughing that very special laugh he had.

"Heh," Dexter huffed, not wanting to get himself into that sort of conversation. If there was one thing he didn't know about, it was human attraction. He had no idea how it even worked. "Who's he?" Dexter asked, pointing at a muscled dark skinned boy who removed his helmet after their practice had seemingly come to an end.

"Him? That's James Doakes," Vince said, and Dexter realized just then how much Vince knew about the place. "He's the team's quarterback. He's a cool guy, but… he can seem a bit scary at times." He continued, shivering slightly. The boy named James Doakes started walking off the field with some of his teammates, when he looked up at Vince and Dexter, and once he had spotted Dexter… he gave him the coldest glare he could ever muster up. As if something about Dexter just wasn't _right_.

…

The next day, on Friday, Doakes approached Dexter in the cafeteria when he was having lunch with Vince and Angel. It had been pretty sudden, and Dexter had no idea how he was supposed to react to it.

"So you're Dexter, right?" Doakes asked, and his voice was just as deep as Dexter had expected it to be. "I see you've gotten yourself some friends, huh? Well, I wouldn't get too comfortable here." He suddenly said, making Dexter's brow furrow deeply. Was that a threat.

"Excuse me?" Dexter asked, cocking his head questioningly.

"Something's off about you, Morgan," Doakes said, completely disregarding the other people sitting at the table, who were looking just as confused as Dexter. Doakes had apparently even learned Dexter's full name already. "These idiots might not notice it, but I do. I'll be keeping an eye on you, you creepy son of a bitch." He said sternly before leaving with an angry snort.

How was that even possible? Had he seen right through Dexter? He hadn't even spoken to him a single time before. Dexter was confused. Probably even more confused than Vince and Angel, even though he also knew that Doakes was more right than he could ever have imagined.

"Just ignore him," Angel said, putting a palm on the table to try and catch Dexter's attention. A tiny grin pulled at the corner of Angel's lips, and he eventually couldn't help himself from chuckling a little. "That Doakes… he's a bit special, you see. But he really isn't all that bad, so try not to judge him just from that little outburst, ey?"

"I guess," Dexter mumbled, an eerie feeling protruding from everywhere around him, although he was absolutely certain that he was the only one who felt it.

And so it was that, by some miracle or invisible force, Vince and Angel had managed to convince Dexter to come with them to town that Saturday. They took the bus around 4 in the afternoon, and they knew that several people from their school would be there. They did tend to gather at the game hall in town on weekends.

There were pinball machines, several pool-tables, a ping pong table, and several other types of games there. There were practically only school students there, and it was apparently very normal for them to "own" the place on Saturdays. There weren't a lot of people to begin with, but with time, more and more students started filing in.

Dexter, Vince and Angel was standing by one of the pinball machines, Vince going at it with the might of a thousand warriors in hope of scoring a new high score. In the meantime, Angel and Dexter were making small talk.

"Almost making the high score here, dudes!" Vince exclaimed, practically punching the machine as he tried to stop the ball from descending into the dark pits of loss. Just as Vince cursed the machine for making him lose right before beating the high score, Doakes and his friends approached them from behind.

"Morgan," Doakes' voice rang. "Now what the fuck are you doing here?"

…

Debra slammed the door to her room, happy that the other girls she shared rooms with weren't home yet, and that she had the room to herself. She threw herself down on the bed and screamed into her pillow, muffled sobs escaping her throat before she retracted her head almost violently. "Motherfucking fucknuggets!" She cried, flopping back down into her pillow. She knew that some of the guys in her class were dicks. She'd known for a long time, and that's just how school was.

But when they'd started insulting her dad. Her family. When they'd started telling her that Miami was better off without her father, they had crossed a line that had broken Debra's defenses to such an extent that she couldn't help herself from crying uncontrollably. She hadn't even been able to tell them off, or punch them. She'd just walked away before she'd broken down completely. She needed Dexter. She needed to hear his voice, just once. She stood from her bed and dried the tears from her face before exiting the room, walking downstairs silently, not wanting to wake anyone's attention. Once she came into the hallway, she started searching the drawers until she finally found what she was looking for.

'Florida phone book' the cover read, reaching out to her in the most imaginary yet real way possible.

…

It had started getting heated up. Dexter didn't get angry. He never got angry, he thought. But this boy, James Doakes, was firing him up to an extent he didn't even know possible. Or was it simply the urges within him that was starting to awaken, because this boy was giving them a reason to emerge?

Angel and Vince were trying to calm Dexter down, trying to tell him to back away and just let it go, but Dexter's shoulders were heaving up and down with every anger induced breath he took.

"Outside, Morgan," Doakes said. "Let's take it outside."

Dexter followed compliantly, and his friends realized that there was nothing they could do. They didn't want to get in the way of muscle-beast James Doakes. But they could at least join them in the alley outside and watch.

They circled each other in the broad alley, Doakes' and Dexter's friends, plus some random people from their school, looking from a few meters away. Dexter didn't know why Doakes was so fixated on fighting him. So fixated on him in general. But he just was, and Dexter had to deal with it.

Doakes was, quite obviously, sure that he would win the fight. He was big and strong compared to Dexter, after all. But when he'd lunged out for Dexter with his elbow, trying to knock it into his face, he hadn't expected Dexter to duck under it with an incredible speed, pumping his fist into Doakes' chiseled stomach.

Doakes grunted, but regained his composure soon after, and they were circling each other again. Doakes threw another punch at Dexter, hitting him square over the jaw. Dexter spun, and used his momentum to lift his right leg and kick it into Doakes' shin as he'd spun one whole round. Doakes cowered a little, and Dexter managed to follow up with an elbow to the big boy's mouth.

Doakes didn't know where Dexter had learned to fight, but he was good at it. Maybe even better than Doakes. The fight went on like that for a while, both parts throwing punches at each other, trying as best they could to block and dodge every incoming strike. Dexter threw another punch at Doakes, this time straight towards him, and Doakes stopped it by grabbing Dexter's fist.

"Enough," Doakes suddenly growled, letting go of Dexter. He used the back of his hand to wipe some blood from his lips. "I've measured your strength. I don't need to fight you anymore. I'm leaving."

Everyone left the alley and went back inside, even Vince and Angel after asking Dexter if he was okay. "I just need some time, alright?" Dexter said, and they nodded and left. Dexter breathed out heavily as they left, and slid down against the cold brick wall.

Panic. That was the first emotion that registered inside of Dexter once he'd realized what had happened.

…

Dexter spent the rest of the night in silence. He'd walked back into the game hall eventually, using the sink in one of the bathrooms to wash the blood from his knuckles and his face. He was still unhinged. Still on edge. That urge was still in him, nagging at him to hurt someone. But he couldn't indulge it, not now.

Dexter caught the bus back with his friends and several other people from the school who was going back at the same time. He spoke a little with Vince and Angel about his fight, both of them actually seeming a bit excited, but his head didn't actually register the conversation happening. His mind was hazy, clouded with uncertainty. He needed to get himself under control.

When they returned to the dorm buildings, curfew was still over one hour away. "Hey, Dexter, we're going to sit in the living room for a while. Wanna join?" Vince asked. Dexter was about to accept, thinking that he might find something there to distract himself, but he heard the phone ringing down in the hallway, and he hadn't seen anyone walk in that direction earlier.

"I'll be there soon, I'll just go answer the phone, and find whoever they're trying to call," he said, and he could barely even realize that it was him who was talking. He was lost in his mind, not responding properly to his surroundings. He walked down the silent hallway that led to the phones, and once he saw the ringing phone, an eerie feeling washed through him.

With hands shaking just slightly, he reached out and grabbed the phone, putting it to his ear. His voice rang out, raspy and tired. "Hello?"

He heard a sudden hitch of someone's breath, and then a crying voice that answered him. "Fuck… Dex?"

The clouds inside of his head disappeared. A feeling of clarity and relief washed over him, and he could almost feel his breath getting fresher, his voice clearing up and his eyes flaring with new life. He realized he'd been holding his breath ever since he'd answered the phone, and he let out a long, unsteady breath before a faint whisper escaped his lips.

"Deb."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'll probably post this note on the new update for every fic I have, just in case. I haven't updated in quite a while, especially not my Bioshock, Supernatural and Dexter fanfics, and I'm sorry for that. Someone told me that I shouldn't forget about you guys, and trust me, I'd never forget. But I've been kind of sick lately, and with school just having started again, I've exerted quite a lot of energy into keeping myself in shape enough to get to school instead of staying home sick. But I'll do my best to pump out a few chapters now as soon as possible.

* * *

For the first time in over two months, Debra felt as if things might actually get better. Not yet, of course, but she felt that at some point, she'd be fine. Some day in the future. Just hearing his voice on that day had been enough to clear her vision, and to make her think a little bit more positively. After that night when Dexter had picked up the phone and heard Debra on the other end, they'd called each other on a weekly basis.

It helped the both of them, though Dexter gave of the impression that he only called to make sure Debra was doing okay. She didn't know that he called because he was in a constant need of hearing her voice, of feeling that calm that she brought along with her. She'd realized, of course, that something was wrong that night that she'd called him for the first time, but he hadn't told her what it was. She was worried.

Even one month after, Dexter thought back to that conversation quite a few times. He was still surprised at how easily Debra had been able to calm him down that night, without even attempting to do so. One minute, he'd been lost. He'd been desperate to indulge in his needs, wanting so badly to inflict pain on someone. To kill another person. But then he'd picked up the phone, and everything was okay again. He knew, of course, that just talking to Debra would eventually not be enough to keep him from losing it, but for now, it was enough.

As he sat in psychology class that day, the teacher doing a lecture on psychopaths, he thought back to that phone call again. It was as if he'd never be able to get it out of his mind.

_"I've waited," Debra whispered as soon as she'd composed herself, but she couldn't keep her voice from shaking uncontrollably. "I've waited for you to call me for over a month, but there's been nothing. Why? Why have you been avoiding me?"_

_Dexter's eyes were wide with surprise, mostly at the fact that he found himself standing in the hall with a phone to his ear, his sister on the other end of the line. He barely even remembered how he'd ended up there, but the wounds on his knuckles reminded him at once. "What?" He uttered, suddenly frowning. "Deb, I've tried to call you. I was told you didn't want to speak to me."_

_"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" She exclaimed, and Dexter could hear so clearly that she'd been crying. "I've been holed up in this fucking dump for a month now, and the only thing I've wanted is for you to fucking show that you're still there!"_

_"Deb, I'm sorry, I thought that... he was telling the truth." He uttered, and his voice was low and almost a bit sad._

_"Well, he fucking wasn't, okay? I don't understand why anyone would lie about something like that!" She exclaimed, and then her voice broke a little again. "God, I really miss you, Dexter," she said in a high pitched tone, and Dexter could feel a lump in his throat._

_"I miss you too," he replied in a mere whisper, and Debra froze. She heard it then, his voice._

_"Dex, what's wrong?" She asked, and she could hear Dexter breathe in heavily before answering._

_"Everything."_

Dexter shook his head and got back to writing notes in his book. He'd opened up too much that night. He hadn't told Debra what was going on, but he'd let her in on the fact that he wasn't okay. It was a bad thing of him to do. He was supposed to be her supporting pillar, the one who never faltered or cowered, the one who could always help her. But that structure could easily be taken down if he showed weakness.

On the subject of James Doakes, things were actually going quite well. The guy still got the creeps from Dexter, apparently, but he didn't try to fight him anymore. Hell, they'd even had a few friendly conversations. He didn't seem like a threat anymore, so Dexter could relax on that front.

He'd gotten a few more letters from that mysterious person, too. Some of it was information about the prison whilst the others were instructions on how he was supposed to carry out the code, and a few rules just to refresh his memory. He tried reading them once every night, just to make sure he remembered it all. This was more difficult now, after all, when he didn't have a police officer to help him learn.

But the help he got from this person, it was better than nothing. At least it could help him stay away from getting caught. He just wished he had some way to shut it all out, but that was impossible. No, he really did have to learn. That was the only way.

...

Debra made her way back from school, already dreading the fact that she was going back to that orphanage. She wanted the time to fly so that she could get her ass out of Miami. The main reason for that being the fact that she could get back to Dexter. She'd thought it through, and all technically, she could be there already in two months. She'd start school there in 4 months, but she could always go there during summer vacation. The only problem being she wouldn't have access to a dorm room during that time. There was always the possibility of renting a motel room, or maybe even staying in Dexter's dorm room. But she didn't know if that was allowed or not.

She tried not to think too much about it, knowing it would only make her more impatient. She got back to the orphanage and started walking up the stairs when Quinn's voice called out from behind her.

"Hey, Debra," he said, and she turned around to face him.

"Joey," she smiled and walked back down to give him a hug. "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good," he smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "I must admit though, school's really tiring me out."

"That makes two of us," Debra laughed. They chatted for a little while before Debra walked back into her room, settling for doing some homework just to get it over with. After working with it for a while, and people had started returning to the home, Quinn called Debra from downstairs.

"Deb!" He called. "Phone call for you!"

Debra shot up from her bed, ignoring the looks of the other girls in the room, and ran downstairs. She already knew who it was, and she was getting extremely excited. Just as she was about to grab the phone from Quinn, he reeled his hand backwards to keep it out of her grasp.

"I'll give you the phone once you tell me who this guy is," he said with a cheeky grin. "You've been talking on the phone every week now, I'm getting curious."

"Just give me the fucking phone," Debra mumbled, bouncing on her heels impatiently.

"Just tell me," he chuckled. "Is it your boyfriend?"

"Fuck off," Debra uttered, blushing suddenly. She'd tell him that it was her brother, but she realized just how weird it would sound if she said that she talked to her brother on the phone almost every chance she got. He might misunderstand, even though there really wasn't much to misunderstand. He did already know of her brother, after all. But still, she felt that it could be weird. "It's none of your business," she mumbled.

"I think it is," he said. "Come on, I just want to know."

"Okay, fine!" Debra exclaimed. "It's my boyfriend. You happy?"

"Fine, I'm happy," Quinn laughed, but he wasn't able to properly hide the bitter undertone to his words. Debra frowned and grabbed the phone from him as he walked away, but her smile immediately returned once she heard Dexter's voice on the other end. "Hey, Dex."

...

"I friggin' owned that test!" Masuka exclaimed as they left the science room. "What about you, Dex, you did good?"

"I think so," Dexter nodded, a tiny smile playing at his lips. He didn't really want to admit it, but spending two months with that guy... he'd taken a liking to him. He actually enjoyed his company, something that wasn't usual for him. "You seem like the kind of guy who like science." He said, though it sounded more like a question.

"You got that right," Vince grinned from ear to ear. "I'm actually... okay, please don't laugh, even though this sounds stupid. I'm really hoping to make it as a forensics investigator. You know, for the police?"

"Oh, really?" Dexter asked, perching an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that, and to be honest, that wasn't far from what he had personally decided to do. He had been told by his father to get a job that would make it easier for him to get to criminals after all.

"You think it's stupid, don't you?" Vince asked, sighing heavily as he looked at his feet, both of them making their way towards the cafeteria to get some lunch.

"No, I think it sounds interesting," Dexter said as they opened the door to the cafeteria and made their way inside, getting each their portion of food before sitting down at one of the tables. "It's only weird in the way that I'm thinking of doing the same."

"What? Really?" Masuka asked in surprise, looking up from his food. "You want to do forensics?"

"Well, blood spatter." Dexter said with a nod. "My father was a highly respected police officer in Miami, so I was kind of inspired by him."

"Wow, for real?" Masuka uttered, his face almost awestruck. "That's so cool. You never know, maybe we end up working together," he laughed, bumping Dexter's shoulder with his fist. "It could be interesting."

...

Dexter sat in his dorm room and wrote on a piece of paper. It was another letter he'd gotten from his mysterious teacher, and this time it was almost a bit funny. They'd made him a test, to check if his knowledge reached long enough. The questions ranged from "What's rule number one of the code?" to "How do you avoid any DNA showing up where you kill someone?"

He had to make sure no one saw this. He'd been told to put his answers back in the envelope and drop it off by a bench, in a park down in the town when the weekend arrived. Surely they must have realized he would use that as a chance to see who they were? He was going to try, of course. But he didn't know if they'd made precautions or not.

That weekend, on a Saturday, Dexter took the bus downtown and found the little park that he had been told to drop off the envelope. It was mid-day, and he was walking towards the benches that was in the middle of the park. There were no one there, and he knew that no one would come out before he had left. He put the envelope down on the bench, and a soft breeze blew throughout the trees, leaves surrounding him. An eerie feeling washed over him as his fingers let go of the envelope, and he heard footsteps behind him. His eyes widened and he turned around.

There stood a woman in a long, grey coat, hands in her pockets. She had a slightly crooked smile, and she looked as if there was something wrong with one of her eyes. Like it was a bit out of place. She tilted her head slowly.

"Hello, Dexter," she said, puckering her lips as she spoke. Dexter could hear that she had a tiny accent. "My name is Dr. Evelyn Vogel."


	6. Chapter 6

Dexter paced around in his room, the distress obvious on his face. He had never expected any of this. Never expected that someone else was behind this, behind who he was. But it hadn't been Harry's idea, not really. It had been hers. _Evelyn Vogel._

Why she'd decided to show herself now, he didn't really know. But she'd explained it all to him; who she was, what she'd done. Ultimately, she made it sound like he was merely an experiment. A lab rat. He was angry, and confused, but to some extent… this was good. He still had someone who could help him, after all. But that didn't take away the fury he had towards the last subject she'd spoken of.

"_Personally, Dexter, I am opposed of the idea of Debra coming to school here," Dr. Vogel said, her lips pursed slightly as she spoke. Dexter's eyes narrowed, and there was a calm rage inside of him._

"_Why?" He asked simply, his voice expressing his anger without even trembling._

"_I believe she would get in your way, Dexter. She's a teenager, and she's been through a lot. Who's to stop her from turning to you for help instead of her friends?" Vogel asked, and Dexter looked completely taken aback._

"_What? Of course she's going to turn to me! That's the whole point! She needs me, and I… I need…" His voice faltered a little, and his fists clenched by his side._

"_What, Dexter?"_

"_I need her."_

He sat down on his bed and shifted restlessly, his hands folded. He still wasn't calm. He still needed that familiar presence in his life, the presence of family. It had become more important than it was supposed to. Somewhere along the line, something had gone wrong, and Dexter had become dependent on family.

…

Debra had taken a liking to Joey Quinn. He was kind, and funny, and definitely the best company she could get in the orphanage. They talked to each other a lot when they were in the house, about everything and nothing. He was nice to have. She noticed, of course, how he felt about her. And sometimes she wasn't sure what she felt about him.

They were in one of the boy's rooms that afternoon, and it was empty except for Debra and Quinn. They were sitting on Quinn's bed, their legs crossed, and they chatted idly, until Quinn brought up that subject again.

"So, your boyfriend," he said, a small grin on his face. "He live far away?"

Debra sighed softly, rubbing her forehead. She didn't know why she still lied about Dexter being her boyfriend, but after having said it once, suddenly saying it was a joke would definitely be taken the wrong way. And god, it would be awkward. "He does, at the moment."

"At the moment?" Quinn asked, perching his eyebrow.

"Yeah, uh… He's attending High School in another state, so…"

"Oh, just like your brother, then?" Quinn asked, and Debra mentally applauded him for remembering.

"Yeah, almost. Thing is, I'm, uh… probably going to go to the same school. As my boyfriend, that is, not my brother." She said, clearing her voice a little.

After hesitating for a second, Quinn nodded. "I see," He said, sounding sort of deflated.

"It's something I decided, like, a long time ago, you know? It's sort of, like… with everything that's happened, I'm not sure how long I can manage without him." She murmured, shrugging her shoulders a little.

"But what if… what if you had someone you needed here instead?" Quinn asked, and then suddenly he was very close to her, his eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips. Before she had time to speak he was leaning in against her, and just as his lips brushed against hers, she heard someone call her name.

"Debra! Phone call for you!" Someone yelled from downstairs. Debra reeled back and swallowed.

"I… sorry, I gotta… uhm…" She said, and then she was on her way out of the room.

"Deb… Debra, come on-" Quinn started, but she'd already left. He cursed under his breath, biting his lip.

"Hello?" Debra asked as she put the phone to her ear, her face still showing surprise.

"Hey, Deb," Dexter said from the other side. "How are you?"

"I'm… uhm, I'm fucking… I'm fine." Debra said, smiling nervously. It was obvious, even in her voice, that something was off.

"Something wrong? I mean, apart from the obvious." Dexter asked her, a hint of worry in his voice.

"No, uh… remember Quinn, the guy I told you about? He, uh, he tried to… kiss me, I think." She replied, after having made sure no one was listening.

"What? What did you, uh, what did you do?"

"I ran, for the most part. I mean, it was just now. Literally, right before you called. I don't even know why I'm telling you this." Debra groaned.

"Is there anything wrong about it?" Dexter asked, and Debra was almost a bit disappointed over how calmly he took it. "I mean, if you like the guy, then…"

"I… I don't know. It's not like I really wanna get involved, you know? I mean, the guy is awesome, but… I'm leaving here in like, a few fucking months, and if I got close to him I'd be leaving behind more than I bargained for, you know?" Debra rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"Yes, I can understand that much," Dexter sighed. "Well, I wouldn't know. You'll just have to figure out how to deal with it, I guess."

"Yeah… hey, did you ask about the dorm room thing?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I did. Sounds like there should be available rooms pretty much as soon as summer starts."

…

That night, Dexter was on a recon mission. It was just training, but it had to be taken seriously, is what Dr. Vogel had told him. To stay in the shadows and stay out of sight. He took the same route out of the school grounds that night, and crossed the road once he reached it. He continued along a patch of grass that Vogel had told him about, and eventually…

He reached a wooden shed. It looked sturdy, actually, but it was definitely abandoned. He opened the door and looked inside, and it was all clear to him. Vogel wanted him to kill people here. It was perfect. He trailed his gloved fingers along the walls, trying to get a feel of the place.

He couldn't help a little smile from pulling at his lips. This was definitely fitting. It was empty, distant… just like himself. He looked it over, making sure he'd gotten a nice feel of the place, before leaving. As he made his way back towards the dorm areas, he thought of how much potential this place had. It was all perfect, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.

Just a few months more.

…

"Debra, you have to get it together," Her teacher said as he handed her the test results. She sighed and nodded slightly, her lips pursed in silence. "You can't keep failing your tests like this. It can ruin a lot for you."

"Yeah, I… I know," Debra mumbled, looking at her feet. Studying hadn't exactly been the easiest thing in the world lately, and the teacher knew why, obviously. But he didn't cut her any slack because of it.

"Look, maybe you need some counseling or something."

"No, that's not what I need." Debra said, looking up at the teacher with fierce eyes. "It's not even close." She said, and then she left. No, what she needed was a new start. A new home. An old friend.

As she returned to the orphanage, she hurriedly found Quinn and gave him a hug. She hadn't let what had happened the week before bother her, or make anything awkward between them. She'd explained to him that she didn't want to get into anything serious, seeing as how she was moving away.

"What's up?" Quinn asked, immediately noticing Debra's composure.

"I failed another one," she sighed, shrugging as if it was all hopeless. To her, it actually was.

"I see," Quinn huffed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine eventually, right? I mean, you're having a rough time. You'll get back on your feet, I'm sure of it."

"Yeah… thanks." She said, smiling slightly. She gave Quinn another hug, and then she returned to her room to try to do some more schoolwork. She had to improve, after all. After not too long, she was called downstairs. She met them in the hallway, and she recognized them as the two men who had taken Dexter away. Even if that was a harsh way of looking at it.

"Hello, Debra," said the nicest one of them, a calm and kind tone to his voice. The other one was standing in the background, just watching. "We're here to talk to you about your move to, uh, Barking Hills Boarding School."

Debra suddenly felt her chest tighten, the fear flowing through her veins together with her blood. "W-What?" She uttered, the fear obvious on her face. She had hoped this would go smooth. She couldn't afford any set-backs now, not after everything she'd been through.

"Oh, it's nothing special. We just want to inform you about the curriculum and give you some brochures, and we have some papers you need to sign, and we'll also sign for you. You need a signature from either a parent or someone in the child protective services, so… well, anyways," he said, and then he kept talking a little and Debra could feel the relief washing over her. No setbacks. All was good so far.

…

"Man, you really need to borrow this book once I've finished it," Vince said to Dexter in the cafeteria while they had lunch. "It's about forensics and all that stuff. Seriously, if we want to go big, while not start right away?"

"Sounds great," Dexter said with a 'smile', continuing to chew his food. The past few weeks had been peaceful. Doakes still seemed to dislike Dexter, but he hadn't caused another ruckus. Lucky for Dexter, seeing as how he wouldn't end up almost killing someone. _Again._

They'd have several tests that week, but Dexter felt confident about all of them. Getting good grades was something Dexter had always had an easy time with.

Dexter heard some people pass behind him, and some girls giggling. "Come on," they said. "He won't bite you. Not unless you bite him first, and we all know how that's going to end. Come on."

"… Hey, Morgan," a voice called behind him, and Dexter could easily recognize it as James Doakes. He turned in his chair and looked at him with a perched eyebrow.

"Yes?" He asked, almost prepared that he'd throw a fist in his face. He didn't.

"You know how we, uh… we have that important math test comin' up," he said, scratching the back of his head. "And I was thinkin', you being such a smartass and all… if maybe, uh… maybe you'd want to help me a little bit with the studying."

Dexter was baffled, to say the least. He gave Doakes a questioning look, and it didn't take Doakes long to figure out what he wanted.

"Right… I'm sorry for my, uh… behavior, you know, before. I hope we can put it behind us."

"I see," Dexter said, shrugging a little. "I don't see why not. Sure, I'll do it."

…

That weekend, a boy who lived in the town close to the school returned to his house to spend the weekend with his parents. That's what most people who lived close would do every or every other weekend. It was normal. But what he was doing was not normal. It was not normal, and it scared him, but he was still going to go through with it. Not yet, but… someday, he would.

He pulled the slide back on the gun, looking into the chamber. He'd finally gotten his hands on one. He was one step closer now, one step closer… to killing those idiots in that horrible school.


End file.
